Priscilla Masters - Frozen Charlotte

‘He is that,’ Jericho agreed.

‘Is he married, do you know?’

Her assistant shrugged. ‘Don’t know that neither, Mrs Gunn.’ He was unsuspicious – so far. Best retreat before his curiosity went into overdrive.

‘Now then, what sandwiches will you be wanting for lunch?’

‘Oh, Jericho,’ she said laughing. ‘Do you ever think of anything but food?’

He considered the question literally, as was his way, his face impassive. ‘As your assistant, ma’am,’ he said severely, ‘I have to consider your wellbeing at all times. Part of that duty is to make sure you have proper meals at decent intervals.’

She smiled at him. ‘Well, at least Dr Sullivan seems very happy and contented these days.’

‘I’ve heard two things there,’ Jericho said, his eyes bright with the gossip.

And in spite of herself Martha didn’t stop him.

‘Divorce and Alcoholics Anonymous,’ Jericho announced, touching the side of his nose significantly. ‘Transformed him, so I’ve heard.’

‘He does look and appear better,’ Martha said cautiously. ‘But divorce and AA? Where on earth do you get all your titbits from?’

‘Here and there,’ Jericho said, deliberately mysterious.

It was time to end this conversation and get on with some real work. ‘Can you get me Mrs Acantha Palk on the telephone, please, Jericho,’ she said. ‘She’s a solicitor connected to the Sedgewick case. Also a friend of the dead woman.’

It didn’t take Jericho long to track her down. He was practised at his work of Coroner’s Officer. Less than four minutes later Martha found herself addressing the deep and formidable voice of Mrs Acantha Palk.

‘What can I do for you, coroner?’ Clearly Mrs Palk was in polite mode. Coroners and solicitors do not always have the happiest of relationships.

‘I wonder if you would mind dropping by my office some time,’ Martha said casually. ‘As you can probably guess it’s connected with the death of your…’ She hesitated. ‘Friend and client, Mrs Alice Sedgewick.’

‘Can you tell me why?’ Acantha Palk’s voice was guarded.

‘I’d rather speak to you face-to-face, if you wouldn’t mind.’ Martha waited a second or two before adding, ‘At three o’clock, this afternoon?’

Acantha Palk must know she did not really have much choice. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said, notes of resentment and resignation making her voice sound sulky. ‘At your office?’

‘Yes, please,’ Martha said.

Alex, in the meantime, was chewing over Martha’s words. For all they seemed to him to be leading him round and round the mulberry bush, or worse, in the wrong direction, he had watched her arrive at correct solutions too many times to dismiss her thoughts out of hand. To that end he caught up with WPC Delia Shaw in the corridor. ‘Have you got a minute?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She followed him into his office.

‘Shut the door, would you?’ She did as he asked and faced him, her eyes questioning.

Alex dived in. ‘The coroner, Mrs Gunn, has suggested that the Isaacs have some criminal activity to hide. Did you get that impression?’

Slowly Delia Shaw nodded. ‘I did, sir.’

Randall frowned. ‘But in what connection?’

‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with the case, sir,’ she said. ‘They seemed perfectly at ease when I questioned them about the house, the baby, that sort of stuff. No…’ She thought for a minute, recalling the exchange of tense glances as she had looked round the elderly Mrs Isaac’s converted ‘sickroom’. ‘It was more when I asked them about old Mrs Isaac, sir. And her money. I just got the feeling that there was something there, something they didn’t want me to probe into. It was just an impression, sir,’ she added quickly, ‘but having been quite happy for me to visit them and question them about the dead child, they were very relieved to see me go.’

‘Sometimes,’ Alex said grimly, ‘impressions direct us towards the facts. Unfortunately sometimes it isn’t logic but instinct which solves cases, Shaw. And then we have to search for hard evidence which will stand up in court to support our thesis.’ He smiled at her. ‘Thank you. Was there anything else that struck you?’

‘No, sir.’

‘OK, you can go.’ He paused for a minute then added, just as she reached the door, ‘Have you thought any more about going into plain clothes?’

Her eyes lit up. ‘I’d love to, sir,’ she said.

Alex sat in his office and pondered the WPC’s observations of the Isaac family. He would be happy to ask the Birmingham police to investigate them, but he couldn’t see how whatever they found would help solve his case. He eyed the phone, tempted to pick it up and dial the coroner’s office. He wondered whether Martha had made contact with Acantha Palk yet.

She had.

In fact at that very moment Martha Gunn was sitting right opposite her.

She had had a shock when Jericho had ushered the solicitor in. So tall, deep voiced, such an overbearing presence.

‘Mrs Palk,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming. Do sit down.’

Acantha Palk looked enquiringly at her. ‘Mrs Gunn,’ she said formally, making no attempt to keep the irritation out of her voice.

Martha put her chin on her hand and stared straight at the solicitor. ‘What did you do with the note?’ she asked politely.

As Martha had expected Acantha Palk looked affronted. ‘What note?’ she asked angrily. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

Martha didn’t explain. She simply kept her eyes on Acantha Palk’s large frame and repeated her question in exactly the same tone. ‘What have you done with the note?’

Acantha Palk glared at her and pressed her lips together. ‘You’ve been told that there wasn’t one,’ she said eventually.

‘I know what I’ve been told.’

The two women faced each other. It was a battle of character.

‘You were first on the scene,’ Martha said, ‘and Alice Sedgewick was your friend. You might think you are protecting her reputation. Again, I ask you. Where is the note? What have you done with it?’ She held on to the woman’s gaze. ‘I do hope you haven’t destroyed it.’ She waited. But Acantha Palk was a tough nut to crack. She simply stared back, her face displaying little emotion except anger.

‘OK,’ Martha said slowly. ‘Let me ask you another question. Did you ring your friend, Alice, the night before she killed herself?’

Acantha Palk leaned forward and barked at her, ‘I assume you have access to police records?’

Martha dipped her head.

‘Then you will know that I did ring Alice. Aaron had asked me to keep an eye on her while he was away. He was worried about her.’ Her dark eyes met Martha’s fearlessly as she continued. ‘However unless that telephone was bugged you have absolutely no idea what I said to Alice.’

‘That’s true,’ Martha agreed, not dropping her eyes, ‘though I can guess. You told her about the bones being found in Bayston Hill, didn’t you?’

Acantha Palk pressed her lips together tighter and looked furious, finally spitting out, ‘Pure conjecture.’

Martha continued calmly, ‘Unless you have something even more sinister to hide, Mrs Palk, than suppressing evidence I suggest that you…’ She rolled her eyes theatrically towards the ceiling. ‘What is that lovely and appropriate Americanism? Ah yes. “Come clean” with me.’ She was finding it hard to conceal her enjoyment at this small drama.

Mrs Palk interlocked her fingers. ‘Coroner,’ she said, ‘I am a solicitor. This is a serious allegation. I know-’

Martha interrupted impatiently. ‘Yes, yes, your rights. We all have rights. Alice wrote that note to speak for her after her death. That is her right. It is what she wanted to be heard. As coroner I have the right to know why that poor woman killed herself. The baby sparked something off, didn’t it?’